Orange on Saint Patricks Day
by confessions.of.katijane
Summary: The line between friendship and something more was blurry for George and Katie before the war. Afterward, the complication may not matter as their relationship threatens to fade entirely. One-Shot.


**A/N: I originally wrote this about someone who's been in and out of my life for the past three years, but I thought it might fit a George and Katie relationship as well, so I added and changed some things to make it work. It's just about how people grow up and grow apart until they don't fit together anymore. Not my usual happy ending, be warned!**

I remember when we both wore orange on Saint Patrick's Day. And when we ran across the street and cut off the carriages and everyone stared. I remember when we went to the D.A. together and then you showed me the dungeons of the east wing and told me lies about a Death Eater who lived there so that I would walk closer to you. I knew you were lying. I walked closer anyway. I remember when we ate dinner with our friends at that place with the greasy cheeseburgers and played footsie underneath the table. I remember when we went down to the Quidditch pitch and both of us shared a broom, and you fell off and we both laughed. And then we went to that Hogsmeade restaurant where you ate my soup and I ate your rice and I found out later that you borrowed money from Fred to take me there. I remember going sledding with our friends in Hogsmeade until late and missing the carriages and you held my hands so that they would stay warm until help came, and then you showed up outside my window to make sure that I was warm and safe. And then there was the time we went to the Yule Ball and sat around and were bored, but we danced up the staircase the whole way back to the Common Room. I remember when I bought you a new cauldron because we'd blown yours up and you showed up under my window with your broomstick and a bag of sweets later that night, but Angelina was the only one there because I was out with Roger Davies, trying to get over you. And I wanted to be a writer and you wanted to start a joke shop, but we spent our time in our old worn out Converse, swapping music and falling in and out of love. We used to listen to The Weird Sisters and Harry and the Potters in my dorm even though my room was always too cluttered, but you said it suited me and we laughed until curfew. I remember the night you said we were just friends, but I still canceled my dates whenever you asked to see me. And then one night when it was raining, you told Alicia you had been lying because you were afraid and I stayed up all night and stared at the ceiling and thought of you. I remember when we broke curfew together and almost kissed in the snow underneath the castle lights, but I got scared and we walked away on the sidewalk in opposite directions.

And then you were gone. You left the castle the next day with Fred, but you didn't leave my life.

Three years later, you came back. And we met in the street late one night and you had your joke shop and I wrote for the Daily Prophet, and we talked like things had never changed. But we were older and sadder and our shoes were more sensible and we hadn't listened to The Weird Sisters or Harry and The Potters in years. And neither of us ate cheeseburgers anymore because neither of us ever had an appetite and we lived in apartments instead of dorm rooms and couldn't pay our rent. But we still wore bright colors and we still laughed all night, and I still thought puns were funny and you still loved to joke. And we walked to the place where part of Diagon Alley used to be and the debris from the wreckage was gone, but the new buildings weren't there. It was just an empty field. I remember when you walked me home and sent me and owl two days later and asked me out and I said yes, and you paid for it yourself this time. And we went to that new club and stood on the floor and were bored, and we tried to dance down the sidewalk but we both felt stupid and walked back to your flat. I remember when we tried to cook in your impossibly tiny kitchen and I spilled sugar all over your floor, so we ate outside and you put your arm around me and we laid in the grass and you said I was beautiful. And when you took out your old broomstick to fly together but we ended up talking too much and it sat in the corner and got forgotten. I remember when we brought out our old albums, but we ended up listening to something new and loving it anyway. And when we spooned on my cramped living room floor and you whispered into my ear about how much you missed Fred and I held your hand. I remember not washing my sweater for days after that so I could still find your scent when you weren't around. I remember when we stayed out forever because we no longer had curfew and you held me and we almost kissed in the moonlight outside your flat, but you got scared and I walked down the sidewalk alone. And then we got busy and your shop got popular and we listened to music without touching, and Lee talked to me more than you did. I remember when you walked me home and we didn't talk, and you turned around to leave and I went in and slid down the door and cried.

And then you were gone. You left my life, but you didn't leave the city.

And now you live on the other side of town with a new set of friends and we don't talk, but I know that the unorthodox boy in the obscure t-shirt that I knew still exists somewhere, and so does the irreverent girl with the ever-changing haircut. And I think that, wherever they are, or whenever they are, they're happy.


End file.
